


To Lose My Mind and Find My Soul

by Glare



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood Fusion, Explicit Sexual Content, IDFK I'll add more later, M/M, Obikin Big Bang 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glare/pseuds/Glare
Summary: For as long as there has been life in the small village of Jedha, its people have feared the Beast that hunts the forest around them. It is a creature of nightmares, they say, or perhaps the thing of dreams. It lures travelers from their trails with sweet words and sweeter promises, but the Jedi know to ignore it. To keep moving, and not to look back when its whispers follow in your footsteps. As long as you stay on the path, it can not take you.Anakin Skywalker was born and raised in Jedha, and has not known anything of the world beyond the superstitions of his isolated village. He is not allowed past the boundaries of the village, is not allowed to walk the path through the wood that leads to the world beyond, but sometimes he finds himself slipping away anyways, inexplicably drawn to the forest and the monstrous creature that stalks it.





	To Lose My Mind and Find My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> I know i'm three days past the already extended deadline but I have worked over 20 hours of overtime in the last two weeks and i'm still trying to finish my revisions of these chapters. They will go up as I do so. You have. My sincerest apologies. I did not intend to be That Guy.
> 
> As this was a partnered Band, you can find Ferris' art at these links! They went above and beyond, guys! I'm so happy to have been partnered with them!  
> [ Cover Image ](http://ferrisdrawsart.tumblr.com/post/172694882848/one-of-the-pieces-i-did-for-obikinbigbang-my)  
> [ The Return to Jedha ](http://ferrisdrawsart.tumblr.com/post/172699865923/this-was-another-i-did-for-the-obikinbigbang-to)  
> [ Reunited ](http://ferrisdrawsart.tumblr.com/post/172699893098/this-ones-more-silly-but-i-feel-like-this-is-how)  
> [ Finale ](http://ferrisdrawsart.tumblr.com/post/172700877948/one-of-the-last-drawings-i-did-for-obikin-big)

There is a monster in the woods. Big as a house, they say, with fur the color of flame and eyes they glow like harvest moons in the night sky. It preys on the unsuspecting, the lost and never found, that wander too far from the path through the forest. It is a creature of nightmares, they say, or perhaps the thing of dreams. It lures travelers from their trails with sweet words and sweeter promises, but the Jedi know to ignore it. To keep moving, and not to look back when its whispers follow in your footsteps. As long as you stay on the path, it can not take you.  
  
However, we’ll get back to that, for there are far more important matters at hand in the small village of Jedha. Winter was upon them, and an easy one it was not. The weather was cold, resources buried beneath deep snow, and illness had made its way through the ranks of the Jedi who resided deep within the heart of the forest. Those who were youthful, hearty and hale, had brushed off its effects as one would throw off a cloak. Those who were older, time taken its toll, required aid from the healer Yoda and his collection of remedies to escape the clutches of sickness.

 But the winter had been long, the snow building up, and the sickness had lingered in the village longer than it ever had before. Yoda’s stores were not meant for such prolonged use, and though he had stretched his supplies for as long as he could, but by the time the plague upon the Jedi had finally begun to pass, his cupboards were all but empty. Several villagers had petitioned their leaders to send a party into the woods in search of more supplies, but the dangers of the forest in winter were deemed too much to chance.

 Which is how we come to the start of our tale, as the village’s blacksmith, Qui-Gon Jinn, trudges through the deep snow toward a small hut at the edge of the village. He is a tall man, broad-shouldered and strongly muscled, with a neatly trimmed beard and long, brown hair kept pulled back from his face. He is well-liked among the people of Jedha, despite the occasional eccentric behavior frowned upon by the village’s Council. Jinn is kind, and generous, and trustworthy. A friends to all who grace his presence.

 He strides purposefully through the hut’s door, pausing only for a moment after he enters to take in the scene before him. A low fire burns in the mantle, casting the room and its inhabitants in a soft glow. Those members of the Council who have already arrived kneel around the form of a form of a woman, tucked into the furs of her bed. Even in the warm light, she is pale, her brow dripping sweat as she shifts uncomfortably beneath her cover. It tears at something in his chest to see her like this, a pained grimace upon her beautiful face. Qui-Gon had tried to help he when the sickness had first come into Shmi Skywalker’s home, but her condition had quickly deteriorated. Now the plague threatens to claim her life, and without the proper herbs to heal her, there is little any of them can do to stop its destructive path.

 “How is she?” He asks over the soft murmur of Dooku’s prayers, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her face.

 Windu, the Council’s head and the leader of the Jedi, sighs sadly. “Not well,” he confesses. “Dooku is asking the Force for aid, but I fear her time with us may soon be at its end.”

 “Surely there must be something more we can do than pray,” Jinn presses. He has made this argument a dozen times since Shmi has fallen ill, but perhaps this time. Now that Windu has seen her in the grips of sickness... “I know the winter has been hard, but the plants of the forest are hardy. Surely some of them must have survived the weather. If we could just send someone out to search for them, we could save her! I would even volunteer to go myself!”

 “I’ve told you before, Qui-Gon,” Windu snaps, “no one is leaving the village until the storm has passed, and certainly not in the middle of the night. It’s far too dangerous, and I will not risk any more lives this winter. If the weather cold doesn’t kill you, the Beast will. The path is buried beneath the snow; it would be far too easy to wander astray and into the its territory.”

 “But if it were someone older, someone who knows the way…”

 Their argument continues in low tones, Jinn unwilling to give up so easily on Shmi’s last hope, and none of the assembled Council members notice the small figure of a boy hovering near the back of the home. They don’t see as he fetches his coat from where it hangs, or laces his boots. None notice when he makes his way to the doorway, slipping out of the hut without a sound.

 Anakin Skywalker steps out into the snow, boots tied and bundled in his heaviest coat, determination in his deep blue eyes. Like Jinn, he has spend the passing days watching his mother’s life fade, but unlike the blacksmith, he will not allow Windu’s decree to stop him. If the Council will not act, he will. He will find the herbs for Yoda and save his mother.

 No one stops him as he makes his way to the wall that surrounds the village, the rest of the Jedi hiding from the weather and the night within the warmth and safety of their homes. Even the guards usually posted at the village’s entry gates have turned in, secure in their belief that the winter storm will keep any dangers away from their people. So he goes unchallenged past the gates and out into the woods, trudging through the building snow in the direction of herb garden Healer Yoda raises in a clearing down the path.

 The wind is cold, biting at his skin through the fabric of his thin coat, but Anakin does not allow that to deter him as he makes his way down the path. The snow now is up to his shins, but still falling heavily. He’ll have to be quick, if he wants to make it back before it becomes too deep for him to move easily through. Or before it completely covers the trail markers, which are his only point of reference home.

 Fortunately, it’s not much further to the clearing, and he makes it there in decent time.

 Anakin sinks to his knees, digging carefully through the snow to reveal the plants beneath. It wouldn’t do to damage those that have survived the weather, every last ounce of their medicinal power necessary if he wants them to save his mother from the plague, but he can feel the cold acutely, now. His coat is soaked through, as are his pants, and he can’t feel his toes within the confines of his boots. He hadn’t intended to be out here so long, but he would do anything for his mother.

 Most of the herbs have fallen victim to the bitter winter, but there are a handful that have managed to survive. It makes the whole journey worth it as he picks them with shaking hands, cradling them carefully to his chest and getting back up to his feet. His harvest should be substantial enough to heal his mother, combined with Yoda’s gift of healing. All he has to do is get it back to the village.

 When he turns to look behind him however, the path he left is gone. The heavily falling snow has all but filled his shallow footprints, erasing the trail he had hoped to follow back out onto the path. And if these steps made so recently are already filled, what of the ones back to the village? What of the markers meant to guide him home?

 Let it not be said, however, that Anakin Skywalker does not try. Instead he sets out with the same determination with which he started on this journey, following the path to the best of his memory. Some of these trees look familiar, he thinks. And it’s really not that far to the village. He’ll be alright.

 But as he trudges on, the snow continues to pile up. Before he know it, it’s up to his thighs, and he fears he’s started to go in circles. Anakin knows he’s seen that log before, had even climbed up atop it to try and get a better vantage point. The walls around Jedha are high, and he’d thought that maybe he could see them. He couldn’t, of course, the trees to dense and the snow falling too hard, and his heart sinks as he crouches down in its shelter to hide from the worst of the biting wind.

 Perhaps the elders had a point about the futility of this mission. Perhaps he should have stayed home, in the safety of his bed, and prayed with the elders for the Force to intervene and save his mother. Is this his punishment for disobeying them? To die alone in the woods instead of spending time with his mother in what could be her last hours?

 The cold is getting to him now, settling down in his bones and mingling with the exhaustion of hiking through the deep snow. He could close his eyes here, in the shadow of the fallen tree, and allow sleep to claim him. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but Anakin can not remember ever being this tired before.

 For a moment, he almost does. Almost allows the dark to claim him. But then there’s a crunch, footsteps in the snow, and he turns his gaze upward.

 Do you remember it—the Beast from the start of this tale? Good, because it stands before Anakin now, not quite as large or as terrifying as he’d been told, but that’s the thing about stories: they have a tendency to grow grander with each retelling.  
  
It stands before Anakin, with its auburn coat out of place among the white of the snow and it stares at him with its eyes like the harvest moon. Considering, almost, one might think, though Anakin is far too cold and too frightened to do very much thinking at all. Instead he watches its breath mist in the cold air with each pull of the creature’s lungs, unable to tear his gaze away from the monstrous beast.   
  
He might have run, another day, but the cold had long ago sapped that strength from his body. What chance would he have, even if he tried? The snow is up past his knees now, making each and every step a challenge. The wolf, with its long legs, would catch him in no time. Would gobble him up like it had the other children in the stories the elders told. So he sits and he waits, watching his fate draw closer with every step the beast takes until he can feel that misted breath against the skin of his face. Until he can smell it, like the ozone of a summer storm, raising hair on the back of his neck.

 Anakin knows you should never ask anything of the Beast, but the question slips from his lips nonetheless. “Can you help me?” he asks it. “I need…I need to get home.”

 Its jaws open before him, neat rows of teeth sharp as daggers, and for a moment Anakin thinks his time has come. That surely the beast will kill him for the folly of his request. In that moment his thoughts are of his mother, and he clutches the small bundle of herbs close to his chest. He had faced the woods and the snow and the night, but in the end the elders had been right. His actions had led him astray, and the beast had come to punish him for his folly.

 To his surprise, however, his life does not end there. Those teeth, sharp and ever so dangerous, are careful as they close on the back of his coat, the massive creature lifting him from the snow’s icy clutches. He sways gently in its grasp, the high winds battering at him, as the creature turns and begin to prowl through the trees. It is carrying him away, to where he doesn’t know, but he does not dwell on the matter for long. Exhaustion and cold and fear have sapped what little strength he had left, and he is helpless to resist the darkness that creeps in from the edges of his vision.

 Unknown to Anakin, the beast continues its journey, trekking through the frozen forest with determination and haste. It allows neither the wind nor snow to deter it, wading through deep drifts and padding carefully over the thin ice of the frozen river. Its steps leave deep tracks in the snow, the only to be seen over the course of its journey. The other creatures of the forest have long ago taken shelter from the weather.

 Its pace only begins to falter as a small hut appears through the trees, smoke rising from its chimney indicating a fire burning within. The beast stumbles in the low light, its approach slowing, and as it moves, the creature begins to change. Bone cracks, shifting and shrinking beneath receding fur, revealing pale, lightly freckled skin. Antlers fall, breaking apart and turning to ash before they even hit the snow.

 No longer is the boy held carefully in the jaws of a monster, but clutched in the arms of what is now a man as he stumbles through the door to the hut. In the warm light of the fire, his eyes have shifted from a sickly yellow to pale blue.

 “Gods, please don’t be dead,” he mutters as he kneels beside the fire, setting his charge gently atop the bedroll kept there.

 He peels away the frozen outer layers of the boy’s clothing and sets them aside to dry before turning his attention to this lost traveller. The boy is still breathing, but so cold to the touch as he tucks him beneath cover of the bedroll’s soft furs. His fingers, toes, and the tips of his ears and nose have taken on a dangerous purple tint that he will have to keep watch on through the night. Frostbite was a danger even to the most prepared of adults, let alone an underdressed child wandering through the deep snow.

 He stays nearby as the night drags on, watching color return to the boy’s cheeks and the shivering that wracked his small body grows still. Outside, the storm rages on, but they are safe in the warmth of the hut. He, and the boy, and fire between them.

 When Anakin wakes, he is alone. Alone, in an unfamiliar hut, but he’s safe and warm and most importantly _alive_. He thinks he dreamed of a man, with red hair and blue eyes, but there is no sight of him now, and he climbs out from the safety of the bedroll and begins to tug his now-dry clothing back on. No sign of anyone, but for the few belongings that scatter the room and fire that now smolders in its hearth. The herbs he so carefully collected are tucked within the pocket of his coat, he is relieved to find. There is still a chance.

 He steps out of the hut, and it is not altogether surprised to find the beast waiting beyond. He doesn't fear it now, in the light of day, as he had the night before. Despite the Council’s words, their cautionary tales, the creature had not gobbled him up when it found him wandering beyond the path. Instead it had taken him in, had saved him, and with that his chance of saving his mother.

 The creature crouches, and with a toss of its head, seems to indicate that Anakin should climb atop it. He does, ever so carefully, sinking fingers into auburn fur to steady himself as the beast rises to its feet. It takes off in a steady lope, and he presses closer, clings tighter, as he watches the forest pass by in a blanket of white. It flurries now, but not nearly so heavy as the night before. From his place atop the beast, it is almost beautiful.

 Before he knows it, the walls of the village are rising up before him, the thick logs worn by weather and time. The beast kneels before the path leading into the village, and Anakin slides down its side to the ground below. For a moment, he nearly heads back into the village without another word. Nearly disappears into the gate without another word to the creature. Instead, however, he pauses, and turns back to his strange savior, who watches him with its strange luminescent eyes as he approaches the beast once again.

 “Thank you,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a hand through its fur, and that is when the beast moves.

 Those teeth, so careful when they had lifted him from the snow, now close around his forearm, cutting easily through fabric and flesh. Anakin shrieks, the beast releasing him as quickly as it had bitten, and cradles his wounded arm to his chest as the creature vanishes back into the woods. Sharp wails escape him as he sinks to the ground, blood seeping hot and red through the fabric of his coat. He is oblivious to the commotion happening on the other side of the wall until a pair of strong arms pick him up off the forest floor, cradling him carefully and jogging back through the to the entrance of the village.

 He can feel eyes upon them as he’s carried not back to his home, but to the blacksmith’s shop. Qui-Gon Jinn sets him gently down on a counter there, and as Yoda attempts to attend to his wounds, Anakin draws the battered herbs from his coat and presses them into the old healer’s wrinkled hands.

 “I found them,” he says with a weary, but relieved smile. “I found them. Now you can help mom.”

 But there is a sadness in the old man’s eyes as he takes them, and he does not immediately go to his duties.

 “Anakin,” Jinn says softly, standing before him when Yoda steps aside and taking his good hand in both of the man’s own, “your mother…she passed in the night.”

 “What?” He asks, voice helpness and small.

 There is sorrow in Jinn’s eyes that can not be faked. Anakin knows the blacksmith held feelings for Shmi; he would not jest on matters like this. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this.”

 “But she—she was fine, when I left!” Anakin protests, and it feels like something is breaking inside him. It hurts worse than the wound the Beast left him with, which aches and throbs still as Yoda carefully wraps it. The only difference is that he doesn’t think this wound will ever heal. “And I found them! I found the herbs to fix her!”

 “You did,” Jinn sighs. “You did, and you were so brave. But there was nothing we could do. The sickness…it was just too much for her.”

 Anakin’s eyes drop away, down to the floor, and can not help but ask, “What’s going to happen now?”

 This, a least, Jinn has an answer for. “I promised your mother, before she passed, that I would care for you. I intend to keep that promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so tired.


End file.
